


The time will come (We will rise from the ashes)

by itsybitsyasterisk



Category: Mass Effect, Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Miranda is a bitch, Raleigh Becket is a puppy, Self-Esteem Issues, Trust Issues, Violence, Yancy is awesome, but not a heartless one, but not more than canon I don't think, character injury & death, hinted past rape/noncon, tbc
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-23
Updated: 2015-03-23
Packaged: 2018-03-14 18:16:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3420722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsybitsyasterisk/pseuds/itsybitsyasterisk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She hears of the Becket brothers, of course. Every pilot team that is talented, worth something, sooner or later appears on TV, not to mention that the scuttlebutt in the Shatterdomes is a fast, monstrous thing. Sasha mentions them in one of her e-mails, almost as an afterthought.</p><p>"We met Becket boys today, just short meeting. They make good pair, but cocky. Hope they will learn better. You’d like them."</p><p>She would, Shepard thinks while she eyes them appreciatively as they counter Moreau’s ever-cynical jokes with seemingly effortless charm on the screen. They make for very nice eye candy at least.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> First fic on AO3 so still trying to get the hang of formatting.  
> Also, this fic is not beta'd and I am not a native speaker of English so yes, mistakes ahoi.  
> Tags and characters will be continuously added. Special warnings for allusions to past rape, issues concerning self-worth and description of major injuries and subsequent character death.
> 
> The title is taken from "Project Afterlife" by Toneshifterz.

K-Day surprised a lot of people but it was only lethal for those who lived in San Francisco. Who drove to work in the morning and then got stuck in the traffic jam on the Golden Gate Bridge as usual. Who walked because who wants to put up with that ridiculous traffic? Who lounged around in the streets because they had no work and no family and no values to speak of.

K-Day surprised a lot of people but it was only lethal for those who lived in San Francisco and didn’t evacuate soon enough to avoid being nuked alongside the gigantic monster that ripped a three mile path through the city. Thing is though, that there wasn’t really much forewarning going on in those days. There was panic and screaming and people dying and people grieving, people running for their lives, people trying to save what little they had left which, sometimes, wasn’t their lives. Nobody in San Francisco really knew what was going to happen. Nobody watched the TV while there was a huge, monstrous creature relentlessly cutting through buildings, breaking them into thousands of pieces six at a time.

K-Day surprised a lot of people but it was only lethal for so many of those who lived in San Francisco because they didn’t know what would come. Other surprised people watched in front of their TV, horrified, shell-shocked, secretly glad that it wasn’t happening to them.

Shepard lived in San Francisco at the time and she was up and about in the city when everything went to hell. Later she would learn that they are called _kaiju_ , that this one was dubbed _Trespasser_. But at the exact moment when Trespasser emerged from the sea and loomed over them with his three-hundred-and-something feet, all she could think was that luck had finally abandoned her. And then Trespasser _moved_.

~~

Shepard grows up in the streets after her father bashes her mother’s head in and then hangs himself on her twelfth birthday. They leave behind absolutely nothing except for debts she doesn’t even think about repaying. Finishing school is not on her list of priorities because people want her blood – _blood or money, time to choose, girl_ – and she is determined to live until she is at least fifteen. So she leaves her home of Montréal and goes to Vancouver.

Life in the streets is hard and brutal and cruel and there’s one lesson that people out here learn very quickly: Nothing’s for free. There’s always a catch. Be smart or get fooled.  
Shepard’s always been smart so she learns that extra quick and only gets fooled a few times in the beginning. One such time leaves her lying in a dirty back alley, clothes ripped, blood between her thighs, knife between her ribs. It’s not so difficult to survive after that anymore. She simply trusts nobody at all. Other street trash bands together to brave the harsh world. She stays alone.

~~

Life goes on. She survives against all odds, lives through hard winters and some even harder summers. She doesn’t stay in Vancouver, not for very long. When she’s fifteen and beginning to look like a young woman instead of a little girl, she decides to risk travelling. Before, somebody might have felt obliged to play good Samaritan and she would have been forced to get out of situations she doesn’t want to explain. But fifteen, fifteen is a good age to be left alone.  


~~

Shepard never actually takes combat lessons because there’s not a lot she has to offer in a world where money does all the talking. Still, she gets in her fair share of trouble and she always, unfailingly, gets herself out of it. If she doesn’t, who will? So while she never officially learns to fight until much, much later, she teaches herself. She’s a smart cookie, a tiny slip of girl that has the advantage of speed and flexibility. Shepard adapts, she survives, and eventually, she even wins. Because it’s only winning when the opponent won’t get up anytime soon.

~~

She is seventeen and has just arrived in San Francisco. The motel owner is very quickly charmed into giving her a room for free but she makes sure to lock and barricade the door at night. Shepard knows that look in men’s eyes. She has learned to look out for it.  
Predictably, in the middle of the night she wakes up to the door knob rattling and turning. The motel owner doesn’t get inside but he curses up a storm and cusses her out. Shepard isn’t afraid, not really. She grips her knife under the pillow, stares at the door and waits. She can defend herself, she isn’t helpless. She remains wide-awake until he gives up and walks away.  
The coming morning she is gone before the sun is up.

~~

Two weeks later, Trespasser rises from the ocean.  
Reports in the morning speak of a recorded 7.1 earthquake but she isn’t too worried. Then the ocean parts and the waves clash. The monster is huge, far bigger than anything else she has ever seen in her entire life and it makes her breath stop, her heart miss a beat. The people around her start screaming and running as the thing finally moves, heading straight for the bridge. Shepard hasn’t survived because of stupidity, so she turns tail and hauls ass as fast as possible. The earth shakes as the monster shrieks and crushes the bridge like it’s made of candy. Blood roars in her ears. It’s been a long time since she felt this scared.  


Shepard runs, runs, runs away as fast as she can, doesn’t stop until she is back in Vancouver, the one place she maybe, hesitatingly would call _home_ , and watches as San Francisco gets turned to ruin from a safe distance. She has to swallow down bile every time she sees the monstrous creature on film, has to sit down to watch the news because her legs won’t carry her. She hasn’t been this afraid since her parents died and she tastes the familiar bitter tang of helpless desperation on her tongue.

~~

She watches as Hundun wrecks Manila. Then Kaiceph destroys Cabo San Lucas. The world slowly starts to understand that these aren’t freak incidents.  
Scissure attacks Sydney and there is talk of a defense program against the Kaiju, something that will be their true saving grace, not a double-edged sword like the nukes.  
Shepard is in a café, paying for coffee with stolen money and watches as experts talk on TV, about possible options. All around her there are mixed reactions, some people are incredulous, others enthusiastic. She stays silent, looks away from the footage of Scissure’s advance after a few moments and fiddles with a broken mobile phone she pulled out of a trashcan. She is good with technology, good with machines. She knows how to fix the phone, but she can’t do anything about the Kaiju.

The first Jaeger is deployed in January 2015. Its name is Yukon Brawler and except for its size, it honestly doesn’t look like very much but a heap of metal.Shepard isn’t impressed. But it shows that humanity is creating its own monsters and before Yukon Brawler has even seen any action, propaganda posters show up, urging people to join up with the PPDC to become Jaeger techies, scientists, pilots and what have you.  


_Extinction is not an option._  
She is not convinced that the Jaeger program will save the world but she is not a fan of extinction either. She is nineteen when she enlists, packs her meagre possessions and is shipped off to Kodiak Island.  
Three days later Karloff lays waste to Vancouver. Shepard watches and feels sick with the knowledge that she would have been dead if she had stayed.  
The attack proves that the Jaeger initiative works. Yukon Brawler kills Karloff and Shepard’s lips curve as the other recruits around her howl their jubilance to the sky.

~~

The thing is, Shepard is street trash. She spent the last seven years surviving however possible, no fixed home to name her own, no formal education past twelve years old. Street trash maybe but so smart she’s at the top of her class when their lessons discuss Kaiju biology and Jaeger tech. The Jaeger tech comes naturally to her. Machines, technology, this she knows. The science she actively works for. It feels good, studying. She wonders what she would have amounted to had her life turned out differently. It’s useless to ponder but she likes to think about it from time to time.  


In the Kwoon she is the threat nobody sees coming. She is quite average at 5’6 but slender bordering on too thin and quite frankly looks like a hard gust could bowl her over. Until now all they did was drilling correct fighting stances and moves but today the spars begin. Her peers all find it incredibly funny when the instructor shouts “Shepard, Kaidanovsky, you’re up!”  
Shepard doesn’t hesitate, stepping up to the mat on bare feet, reaching up to tighten her ponytail. There are two Kaidanovskys in the training group. Both are Russian, intimidatingly tall and have bleached, platinum blond hair. But it is Aleksis, bear of a man, that moves and steps on the mat with her.  


He is huge, easily two heads taller than her, body packed with muscles and no doubt able to break her apart at the waist with one enormous hand. He has so much raw, brute strength it almost hurts to look at him. It’s good, Shepard thinks, giving him a slight bow, that she relies on smarts and manoeuvrability instead because in a match of sheer power she would never win.  
She hears giggles all around them. Understandable, really. They must look ridiculous, the giant and the dwarf. Understandable, yet something tightens in her chest. Being underestimated has saved her some pain in life but here in the Jaeger academy? She won’t hold back because it won’t do her any good. She _will_ reach the top.  


The instructor gives them the go ahead but for the longest time neither of them moves. Shepard won’t give herself any more disadvantages than she already has. Fighting smart means exploiting moves the opponent makes.  
Finally, finally, when the instructor almost seems ready to intervene and force them to move their asses, Aleksis attacks. The first mistake would be to think that a giant can’t be quick. Shepard doesn’t make that mistake and that’s why she can whirl out of the way of his lightning-fast jab, dance around the quick follow-ups and sneak beneath his guard once she knows his rhythm.  
He doesn’t expect her there, doesn’t react immediately and she doesn’t hesitate. Push, jab, unbalance, use lower centre of gravity, _twist_ and go with the flow - Aleksis lands with his back on the mat with a heavy thump, her knee in his stomach and her foot against his throat.  
The silence in the room is almost deafening.  


Aleksis looks up at her for a moment, face unreadable, then slaps his hand against the mat twice to signal acceptance of his defeat. Shepard rolls off and offers him a hand up. His fingers dwarf hers as if she is a small child, swallowing them completely. She has to take an energetic step back to get enough momentum to actually get him to his feet.  
Spars are best out of three. Aleksis hits the mat two more times.  


There are no whispers, no giggles when they bow to each other and step off the mat.  
Something deeply buried, almost primal inside Shepard is darkly satisfied with that.

~~

The noodles are limp, the vegetables overcooked, the meat looks dubious and the mystery sauce tastes a bit burnt. Shepard doesn’t bat an eye at the vaguely disgusting meal because she’s had worse but all around her the recruits are groaning and complaining. It fits the cliché that all military bases of some sort employ cooks that don’t know meat from shoe soles. Considering the kind of physical work they have to do she has to wonder about the lack of quality, though.  


Two trays clatter onto her table, one next to hers, the other across from her. Shepard jerks her head up, taken off-guard because she sits alone if she can help it. She also usually _can_ help it because there aren’t enough recruits to fill all the tables and in true human mentality, a few groups have already formed since the start of the program which means even more tables are left unoccupied.  


A small plate is pushed onto her tray by a hand so big she isn’t surprised to look up and see Aleksis, face blank except for an amused sparkle in his eyes. She is, however, surprised by what exactly he’s given her. A thick slice of the much-coveted, supposedly to-die-for chocolate cake that she never fights over.  
“Stick girl,” Sasha Kaidanovsky says imperiously in a thick Russian accent as she sits down next to Shepard, giving her a once over. She clucks her tongue disapprovingly. “Need fattening up so that outside matches strong woman inside, not skeleton.”  
Shepard purses her lips, not taking offence because it is true that she borders on skeletal. But she does wonder why they’re taking an interest when all she has seen them do is keep to themselves.  


Sasha meets her eyes head-on, face inexpressive except for her eyes but Shepard can’t read her. After a few moments of silence, Sasha turns and begins to eat. Across from them, Aleksis already tucked away half of his food. She looks from one to the other, not sure what to do. Eventually, she decides to react like a normal human being because courtesy never killed anyone and if they have an ultimate agenda she will know soon.  


“Thank you,” she says. It’s not something she says very often, at least not genuinely, but it comes surprisingly easy.  
It’s worth the slight feeling of discomfort because Aleksis’s lips curve in a micro-expression and there is warmth in Sasha’s eyes.  
The chocolate cake _is_ to-die-for.

~~

It is not surprising that Sasha and Aleksis turn out to be drift compatible. It is _very_ surprising that Miranda Lawson is drift compatible with Shepard. They don’t exactly hate each other. Or maybe Miranda does, because there’s a beastly, ghastly expression on her face when the instructor congratulates them and shoves them off the mat. She stalks off before Shepard can say a word _(but she probably wouldn’t have anyway)._  


To be honest, Shepard never really noticed Miranda other than the cursory _hot bitch_ that are the two attributes everybody tends to notice first when dealing with Miranda.  
Because she is hot. She is beautiful, almost too much, like someone engineered her to be perfect. But she is also an icy, downright spiteful bitch. And it seems that while Shepard never really noticed her, Miranda always had her in her sights because Shepard was always just that little bit better, just that little step ahead in the courses. Turns out that jealousy is an emotion that makes even the beautiful look ugly.  


“I do not like this,” Sasha murmurs mutinously, threading an arm through Shepard’s as soon as she’s near enough, holding her tightly as if she could somehow hinder their compatibility. From beside her, Aleksis makes an agreeing noise. “Girl is no good partner for anybody,” he says disapprovingly, heavy brows furrowed unhappily.  
Shepard isn’t altogether comfortable with Sasha’s invasion of her personal space but it’s more of a slight tingle at the back of her head instead of the suffocating thing it was even some weeks ago. She feels a bit adopted, truth be told, because from that lunch with the chocolate cake on, the Kaidanovskys didn’t go away again. Shepard _did_ fatten up under their constant feeding so now she is not a stick anymore. And for two people who have the reputation of emotionless hardasses, they are surprisingly, almost overwhelmingly tactile. A pat to the back or shoulder here, a one-armed squeeze there, Aleksis’s veritable bear hugs, Sasha’s kisses to both cheeks at each greeting and goodbye and sometimes just when she feels like it.  


It’s not… it’s _nice_. Really nice. And she’s slowly, very slowly learning, maybe, that trusting is okay as long as you trust the right people. She turns her head, presses a quick kiss to Sasha’s cheek before she can think better of it. “Don’t worry, Kaidanovskaya,” she says, as if letting Miss Bitch into her head doesn’t make her feel nauseous. Aleksis told her a while ago _Call me Sasha_ and she understands the urge to fuck with people, really, but she refuses to confuse herself by calling them both by the same name when in their company. So, compromise. “I can take care of myself.” Sasha doesn’t look reassured, petting her captive arm a little aggressively.  


Aleksis leans forwards, catches Shepard’s eyes. “We know, Lizochka. But you are Jaeger pilot. Shouldn’t need to.”  
She stares into his warm, friendly eyes and thinks _oh the luxury_. They are right, both of them. But it never occurred to her that this is what pilots should be: confidants. Able to trust each other with their lives. Aleksis and Sasha will have this kind of bond, she is sure. Miss Bitch and herself will be lucky to get out of the drift with their brains intact.  


“Cake,” Sasha declares abruptly, turning around and dragging Shepard with her, “Cake fixes everything.”

~~

Shepard graduates on top of her cohort, ahead of Miranda. Needless to say, this doesn’t exactly endear them to each other any further.

~~

“I don’t like you, Shepard,” Miranda says coolly, nose wrinkled as if she smells something bad, “But I don’t have to like you to be professional and do my job. The question is, can you?”  
This is really such a fine conversation to have just before drifting for the first time. Really. Such a goddamn icebreaker. Shepard doesn’t even try to contain her eyeroll and watches as Miranda’s face tightens around the corners of her eyes. Fun.  


“If I couldn’t do my job, Miss Lawson, I wouldn’t be here,” she drawls, deliberately misunderstanding. The drivesuit fits like a second skin, nothing itches or pinches. It’ a dark, dark red for both of them instead of the usual white or black though nobody loses a word of explanation about it.  
It would be easier if all the animosity came from Miss Bitch but really, at this point, it’s about equal share. Shepard can passive-aggressive like nobody’s business.  
Miranda is about to open her mouth, no doubt fire another sharp-tongued comment, when the audio in the exercise pod crackles to live and the LOCCENT officer’s voice says: “Alright ladies, please confirm status.”  


They do.  


“Bridge initiates in 10, 9, 8….”  
Shepard takes a deep breath and closes her eyes. This is going to be a fun ride.  
They enter the drift in frigid silence.  
The thing is, they were always told to control the drift, to minimise the influx of intimate, personal memories because the urge to chase the RABIT is big enough without a memory that throws the pilot off enough to pursue it. It’s just the nature of the human brain, getting all these fast-flash memories and getting hung up on a particular image that is somehow fascinating.  
So, rule number one: Keep the drift clean. And it is clean, at first.  
No matter how juvenile it sounds, Shepard will always say this: Miranda started it. And boy, does she ever.

_A big home, so cold, so lonely, Papa come look at this, isn’t it pretty? Get out of here, what are you doing here_  
_Papa - not now Miranda, Daddy’s busy, go play outside, it’s her birthday but no-one congratulates her she doesn’t even see Papa that day, useless, worthless, I didn’t make you for this, you need to be perfect-_  
_stupid girl, she is best in her class, miles ahead of everyone else, I made you to be smarter, why aren’t you smarter, look, Mira, this is your sister, love her, OK?_  
_I’m sorry, Miss, you can’t have children, Oriana smiles a bright, innocent smile, seems to be surgical, done when you were very young, love her, OK?_

It’s a maelstrom of resentment and hate and despair and Shepard has to focus to keep breathing through it without concentrating on anything in particular. Miranda wants to throw her off, wants to break this drift but without it being classified as her fault-  
From very far away she hears “Ladies, you gotta stabilise that drift fast, you’re completely out of alignment-“  
-but Shepard won’t stand for that, oh no. Her worst memories, her pain, that is not for sharing, she won’t show _weakness_ ( _she feels Miranda flinch because of course she hears that, they’re in each other’s heads_ ). But knowing what she just saw? The good memories, the happy ones she will proudly show will hurt Miranda just as much.

_Liza, mon angle, time to wake up, it’s a snow day today, her favourite, her mother laughs as she sinks up to her waist in snow_  
_Papa always smiles, so smart, you’re so smart my genius girl, she eats sweets until she feels sick, Lizka I told you to be careful now look what you did but her father lets her curl up with them in bed anyway until she feels better_  
_the Christmas tree is huge and Mama puts the star on top, so smart my genius girl, the present whines and yips, is that really? Come on, solnishka, let’s go to the lake_  
_Fluffy golden wet tongue ohmygoditsapuppy, je t’aime ma chouchoute, je t’aime beaucoup, ne l’oublie jamais -_

She feels Miranda’s mental fingers dig into her until it hurts and she grabs back just as hard. They are ambitious, they are prideful, they detest each other but they won’t let that stop them from advancing to where they’re due. If the only way to pilot a Jaeger is with each other, then so be it. Their eyes snap open. Miranda’s are wet, tears threatening to fall. Shepard’s are dry as dust.  
“Connection is steady,” the LOCCENT officer says though he does seem a bit apprehensive, “Lookin’ good. Variance is at… just above nine percent.”  
Which isn’t _good_ , per se, but still in an acceptable range. Shepard resolutely doesn’t look at Miranda. Bad enough sharing headspace, though now, after drifting, they both follow rule one as if they’ve never known anything else. There is a wall surrounding each of their minds, blocking everything but what’s necessary to pilot a Jaeger efficiently.  
Except for this:  
_I’ll kill you, Shepard._  
I’d like to see you try, bitch.  


They wait patiently until the connection is released, until the techs have disconnected them from the platform and they’re in nothing but their circuit suits.  
Then, from zero to one hundred and eighty, they’re at each other’s throats, hurling curses at each other, Miranda’s hands fisted painfully in her hair, ripping chunks of it out, Shepard’s nails in Miranda’s face, digging bloody groves before the technicians can rip them apart.  
Oh yeah, this team is off to a great start.  


Needless to say, they get an official reprimand for that little stunt.

~~

Shepard goes to Sasha to beg her to cut her mess of hair. It is baffling, heartwarming really, that she does not think it through beyond _I trust Sasha with scissors near my head_ , but she dearly regrets that when Sasha opens the door to her knock and freezes at the sight of her. Behind her, hard house music almost makes the walls shake.  
“What,” she asks, voice growing alarmingly loud, cheeks red, “did bitch do to you?”  
Shepard shimmies past her into the small apartment because people are curiously looking in their direction. Sasha slams the door shut and stalks after her.  


“Veta,” Sasha says warningly. Aleksis looks up from where he’s slicing up some apples at their entrance. He goes very, very still, face hewn out of stone except for the eyes that look her over intently. He puts down the knife, wipes his hands on his pants and stands up. “Lawson, yes?” he asks, clearly rhetorical because he’s already shouldering past her.  
Shepard grabs his arm with both hands, fingertips not even touching each other. “No, no, stop, Sashas. It looks worse than it is.”  
Aleksis and Sasha send her twin looks of unimpressed contempt.  


“Explain,” Sasha commands, manhandling her into sitting on the only chair in the small pilot bunker. Aleksis vanishes into the bathroom and returns with a wet towel, turning off the music on the way. The sudden silence is almost jarring. She winces as he sets about finding all the small, bloody places where chunks of hair are missing.  
“We drifted,” Shepard says. She doesn’t really want to think about that sickeningly malicious exchange. It doesn’t even deserve the name drift. “And after we got into a catfight.”  
She looks up at Sasha and smiles at her. “Don’t worry. Miranda doesn’t know the first thing about getting into catfights. She went for my _hair_. I went for her face.”  
“Would have gone for eyes,” Sasha grouses.  
Aleksis pulls back the pink stained towel. “Would have gone for jugular.”

It is Aleksis who ends up cutting her hair.  
“Have no idea how to cut hair,” Sasha says lazily, pointing at her own long blond hair, “If you want bald head then OK.”  
And since she doesn’t want a bald head and Aleksis cuts his own regularly, Shepard feels a bit safer in his hands. Only a bit because soon dark auburn hair starts to fall to the floor in alarming amounts.

“Will look good,” he assures her every few minutes when she constantly asks what exactly he intends to do. Sasha, the traitor, simply smirks widely and stuffs her mouth full of apple slices.  
It _does_ end up looking good, once she gets over the shock of having much shorter hair than at any point in her life before. He made it into an A cut, cropped relatively short in the back, layered and a bit more than chin-length in front. It _really_ looks good, she admits after a few seconds of staring into the mirror, makes her look adult and feminine. Also, it won’t be a pain in the ass once piloting becomes a regular occurrence, no hair that gets in the way in the helmet.  
“I really like it,” she says and watches Aleksis beam at her.

~~

Piloting with Miranda, even while not yet in a real Jaeger, is everything but pleasant. They get results - and rather impressive results, a kill to every drop and some even quick enough to break records - but she feels as if she’s been through the wringer every time afterwards, even though they always keep up walls now. They have to be the most dysfunctional functional pair in the whole history of drifting and she’s already had enough and they don’t even have their own Jaeger yet.  
Not that one isn’t already in production. None of the Jaegers currently nearing finishing mode apparently fit their fighting style. Shepard isn’t surprised because none of the Jaegers are quick and manoeuvrable and stealthy and that’s exactly the kind of Jaeger she needs.  
The downside of this exact fitting is of course that she has to watch the rest of the Rangers leave, staying behind.  


Sasha and Aleksis get a Jaeger called Cherno Alpha, powerful and gritty-looking and absolutely perfect for them. After the first few successful drifts in Cherno Alpha, they are shipped out.  
“Take care of yourself, _zayka_ ,” Sasha murmurs in her ear as they hug tightly.  
“You too,” Shepard whispers as they break apart and turns around to get lost in Aleksis’s bear hug. “Watch yourselves out there.”  
The goodbye isn’t tearful because for one, they will likely see each other again, maybe even drop together in the future and two, they promise to do their best to keep in touch.  
Still, Shepard’s heart aches as she watches the only people she trusts in this world walk away to other pastures.

~~

Their Jaeger takes only a few months to finish which is a miracle in itself considering how advanced they made it. Her, Shepard corrects herself, the Jaeger’s a her.  
Her name is Eury Prime and she is a marvel of Jaeger tech. She is made exclusively out of alloys that are sturdy and yet lightweight enough that it makes them the fastest Mark I, probably even faster than most of the Mark IIs and IIIs that are sure to come. She is tall, of course, just as tall as all the others but so slender, so slim she almost looks dainty. She is a bit weaker, yes, lacks a bit of the monstrous robustness - that’s the price for manoeuvrability.  


They made her a deep dark grey, nearly black, dark red highlights across her body. She doesn’t gleam, her entire body is matte because if you want stealth, glossy finish isn’t the way to go. She looks vicious, gorgeous really, and glancing up to that threatening bloody red glass surrounding the conn pod, Shepard thinks she has never seen a more beautiful sight in her life. The dark red colour of their drive suits now also makes so much sense.  
Then the techs tell her all the details, how she has support to keep her balanced in lightning-fast manoeuvers, how there’s a mean little surprise _blade_ built in her right hand. Shepard is in love.  


Miranda not so much and she isn’t shy about letting her opinion be known. Too frail, too little support, how on earth can a Jaeger even be stealthy. Shepard tells her to shut her mouth before she claws those pretty eyes out. Miranda, groves on her cheeks no longer visible but clearly still painful in memory, shuts her mouth and tries to glare her dead.

The first time they get the drop on a Kaiju, the first time they take it completely by surprise and kill it faster than any Jaeger before them, Shepard sends _I told you so_ vibes in Miranda’s direction. And Eury Prime, well she’s perfect. Shepard doesn’t get tired of repeating it. Even with a co-pilot like Miranda, she’s a dream come true. Especially since Shepard was told to take the right, dominant side of the Jaeger right in the beginning. Not only does that mean that it’s mainly her that controls the combat, it also gives her full might over the _knife_ and boy, does she love the knife.  


They kill Kaiju after Kaiju, uncompromising, efficient, ruthless. The media calls them the ‘Iron Ladies’ which isn’t as bad as it could be, really, but Shepard thinks it’s silly regardless.  
They start having to give interviews. Miranda plays up the cool, sophisticated woman, elegant, graceful. Shepard lets her wit out to play and exchanges hilarious banter with the various hosts, always a small, private, closed-lipped smile on her face. The audience eats it up.  


“I have to say,” Diana Allers says at the end of another show, a bright grin on her face, “you two are my absolute favourites, really. It’s very refreshing to see two female pilots be so successful - and be such a great team!”  
Shepard doesn’t let the incredulous hilarity she feels at that comment show on her face but her smile widens a bit, shows just a hint of teeth. Miranda says: “Thank you so much, Diana, this was absolutely wonderful.”  
“Let’s do it again sometime,” Shepard agrees.  


In the public they are a firmly united front. In private they verbally rip each other’s throats out every chance they get. And the only reason it’s not physical throat-slashing is because they have been _warned_.

~~

She hears of the Becket brothers, of course. Every pilot team that is talented, worth something, sooner or later appears on TV, not to mention that the scuttlebutt in the Shatterdomes is a fast, monstrous thing. Sasha mentions them in one of her e-mails, almost as an afterthought.  


_We met Becket boys today, just short meeting. They make good pair, but cocky. Hope they will learn better. You’d like them._  


She would, Shepard thinks while she eyes them appreciatively as they counter Moreau’s ever-cynical jokes with seemingly effortless charm on the screen. They make for very nice eye candy at least.  
She won’t meet them for four more years, until 2020 when she saves their asses and gives a part of herself in return.


	2. Chapter 2

It starts innocuous.

Eury Prime was transferred a lot over the last years, starting out in L.A., then serving for a few short placements in Anchorage, Lima, Hong Kong and Tokyo. Shepard doesn’t meet very many other pilots because they usually only stay until a Kaiju is defeated and then move on.

She’s not sad about that, really. Aside from Sasha and Aleksis, who are both very special people themselves, she does not really know how to interact with others in a normal capacity.

Her hate-fest with Miranda doesn’t help either. So even when they’re in one place for more than a few days, she doesn’t make much effort to get involved with others.

The way she sees it, this is a war. It’s bad enough that the Kaidanovskys can die at any given moment, why would she want more people to worry about?

A call comes through for another transfer to Anchorage because they will be short a Jaeger since Romeo Blue is supposed to be shuffled around as well. They are transported to the 10 mile mark, taking over the spot that Romeo Blue is supposed to occupy, guarding the perimeter for the night before returning to the Shatterdome in the morning.

“ _Ladies, this is Tendo Choi, your LOCCENT officer from Anchorage_ ,” they hear over the comms. “ _Readings of your handshake look stable. Confirm status, please._ ”  
Shepard lets Miranda reach up and activate communications with LOCCENT. It’s like educating a puppy, let her do something important and she’ll be pleased. Miranda shoots her a venomous glare.  
Shepard flutters her eyelashes innocently.

“LOCCENT, this is Eury Prime, ready and able,” Miranda sounds clipped, cool. Pissed off, to all those who know her - which is really just Shepard and even she only knows what Miranda showed her.

Shepard smiles sharply and says: “What Miss Lawson meant to say is: It is such a pleasure to meet you, Tendo Choi. I hope you won’t be too terribly put off by our bitch-fest.”

Which is very unlikely. They’d put off almost all LOCCENT officers they ever worked with because with such vitriol, such genuine dislike, a drift shouldn’t even be possible. They show a united front to the public. The conn-pod, well, that’s an entirely different story.

Choi makes an amused sound over the comm. “ _I guess we’ll see._ ”

A short moment of silence, then a different voice talks to them. “Eury Prime, this is Marshal Stacker Pentecost. Your orders are to hold the 10 mile mark until dawn. We will contact you if we get activity in the Breach.”

“Understood, sir.” Miranda replies and that’s that. At around midnight a storm comes in. Rain pelts down in heavy sheets, making for poor visibility.

It’s at 1:47 a.m. that the comm crackles to life again and it is Choi’s voice, urgent but practiced. “ _Movement in the Breach. Category III, biggest yet, codename Knifehead headed in your direction, Eury Prime. We’re getting Gipsy Danger up and ready in case you need support._ ”

Shepard already scans the oceans but the thing about Kaiju is this: You mostly don’t see them until it’s nearly too late. Eury Prime made a name by being able to turn the game around but they usually aren’t the prime candidate for patrol duty because of that. Pun intended. 

They can’t blindside Kaiju if there’s no visible Kaiju to begin with. It really, really doesn’t help that the storm hasn’t calmed down at all; if anything it’s even worse now.  
“Copy that,” Miranda says. They begin walking, cutting smoothly through the water. Minutes pass.

Miranda’s voice is tight. “I don’t see anything.”  
“Me neither.” Shepard reaches up to the comm button. “LOCCENT, we don't-“  
The roar is the only warning they get. They scream in pain as the Kaiju crashes into their back, as sharp, sharp claws dig into the metal and render and twist until it almost feels like their spine is severed.

Choi is trying to talk to them but Shepard can’t make out the words.  
_We need to get away._  
They brace themselves and turn, push, writhe - the claws come loose and the Kaiju gets a knife to its face.

It is huge, gigantic, so massive it’s a wonder it didn’t bury them entirely when it ambushed them from behind. It’s aptly named as well because it has a wicked head, clearly meant to crush with blunt force. And it isn’t dazed for very long.

“Grab it, goddamnit grab it, Miranda!” Shepard howls, the pain from Eury’s back enough to make her world spin. “I’m trying, I’m trying!” Miranda shouts back, failing to get a good grip on the water-slick Kaiju skin.  
Shepard’s heart hammers so hard it almost hurts. Knifehead presses its advantage and surges up - claws pierce through their conn-pod in seconds.  


Shepard feels one miss her just so - and then there’s pain in her abdomen, blood pushes up her throat. Not possible, she is whole, she knows that but Miranda - she turns her head through the pain - one claw goes right through Miranda, so broad it almost severs her in half right there. The walls between them crumble down.  


_Oh god, oh god_  
_Pain, pain, so much pain_  
_Blood bubbles up her throat, coats her lips, she coughs_  


Shepard watches with wide, horrified eyes as the claw tugs out of her stomach but _something doesn’t give and the claw rips out_ and there’s a _crunch_ and _agony_ \- 

Miranda and Shepard scream as one as her spine gives and every nerve ending is set on fire. The Kaiju leaves them for dead, moves on as the Jaeger falls to its knees, jostling them, making them cry out, but they can’t care, can’t think -

Everything grows numb, _she chokes on her own blood, she tries to say just one, one word to the woman she always admired, envied, hated_ -

“Shepard,” Miranda rasps wetly. Shepard’s breath hitches, her cheeks are wet. There is so much pain and fear in Miranda’s steel blue eyes and she can feel it, can feel everything. “Shhh,” she says with a broken voice, “Everything’s alright, Miranda, it’s gonna be alright.”  
_Don’t cling to life_ , she wants to say, _life isn’t wonderful enough to feel this pain just to keep it_ but doesn’t have to because they’re in each other’s heads.

Miranda clings to her tightly in the drift, scared, shaking. Shepard puts her arms around her, strokes her hair, _chokes on blood, the pain fades into freezing cold, I hope it’s better there, it will be, I promise._

With one last wet wheeze, Miranda’s gone and Shepard’s head has never felt this empty before.

She could have hung in her gear, staring into Miranda’s blank, dead eyes for seconds or hours before she comes back to reality, hears Choi desperately trying to reach them.  
“ _Eury Prime, this is LOCCENT, come in! You lost connection, do you copy? Eury, come in!_ ”  
He has to know that it’s much more likely that they are both dead and lost in the sea but he keeps trying, bless him. 

Shepard slowly straightens up, feels nauseous when her back and stomach cry out in pain as if she’s mortally injured, as if her spine’s crushed and her abdomen a large bloody hole. She reaches up with a shaking hand, misses the button twice before she finally hits it.  
“LOCCENT,” she hears how wrecked she sounds, shaking, broken, half-dead, “this is Eury Prime. Knifehead went straight for an ambush and the conn-pod. It knows exactly where the pilots are.” 

She takes big, steadying breaths, pants through the limb-shaking agony. Slowly, slowly she pushes the Jaeger to its feet, mangled metal groaning.  
“ _Copy that_ ,” Choi sounds freaked out but he seems to hold it together for her, how sweet, she would tease him in any other situation but right now it’s really, really helpful. “ _Your handshake is still going strong, Shepard. I lost Lawson’s signal a few minutes ago_ ,” Choi says, carefully probing.  
Shepard just concentrates on breathing for a few moments, makes sure her voice will sound firm again and says: “Ranger Lawson is dead. Where did Knifehead go?”  
A beat of silence, then another.

“ _Gipsy Danger is currently engaging_ ,” he finally says. “ _Shepard, we’ll get Jumphawks to your location ASAP-_ “  
“No need,” she cuts in, “no need, Choi. Gipsy Danger’s at the Miracle Mile?”  
“ _Yes, but-_ “  
“I’ll assist.”

She’s steady on her feet now and even though warnings are screaming in bright red on the interface, she turns Eury Prime around and starts running. Choi is trying to get her on the line again. Shepard ignores him. Adrenaline spikes and Eury Prime runs faster than ever before because _there’s a Kaiju out there that we didn’t kill and that won’t stand_.  
She reaches the Miracle Mile just in time to see Knifehead raise its claw, ready to sink it into Gipsy’s conn-pod and Gipsy Danger _doesn’t do anything_.

“Oh no you DON’T!” Shepard bellows and like lightning Eury appears next to them, a shadow out of the darkness. She grips the claw, raises her right hand, knife flashing, and stabs, slashes, hacks while the Kaiju roars and tries to buck out of her grip. It seems so, so easy to keep it off-balance ( _why wasn’t it easy before?_ ) and she doesn’t relent until the Kaiju’s hide gapes open and it slumps in her grip. 

Shepard’s breath rattles in her chest, hitching in her throat until it sounds like she’s sobbing. Almost as an afterthought she opens Eury’s fingers. Under her wide-eyed stare the Kaiju sinks into the ocean, not quite robbed of its horror. 

“Jesus Christ, Shepard,” she hears Choi whisper over the comm, “Jesus Christ.”

The adrenaline fades. Shepard feels her body shaking. Her head aches fiercely. She looks to her left. Miranda stares at her, body hanging in the harness like a broken doll.  
“It’s ok,” Shepard quietly, fervently says to her. She feels feverish. “The monster’s gone.”  
Miranda doesn’t care anymore of course. There’s a gawping chasm in Shepard’s head.

“ _Shepard._ ”  
She jerks to attention. Her head aches.

“ _Shepard!_ ” Choi says it like he has tried to get her attention a few times now. But he doesn’t sound annoyed. Her head hurts too much to try to decipher it. Her hands are numb.  
“Still here,” she says quietly. 

“ _That’s good, Shepard. Listen, okay? We’ll go get you and Gipsy in just a few minutes, hang tight. I’m gonna separate you from Eury’s interface now._ ”  
He’s speaking slowly, soothingly like one would talk to a child. Shepard closes her eyes and can’t give a fuck. Her words are just shy of slurred. “Copy that.”  
She feels the separation from the Jaeger, but it’s only a vague feeling in the back of her head. 

Just like Choi promised, it’s not long until she hears the Jumphawks, feels a jerk and Eury gets lifted into the air. She watches the ocean rush by underneath, eyes half closed. She’s bone-tired but she can’t sleep with Miranda’s eyes on her.  
Blood-soaked, dead Miranda. Inanely she thinks _it’s a good thing that our drive suits are dark red, it won’t stand out so much._ Not that it will help much to conceal Miranda’s poor state of affairs.  
Shepard giggles, bites her tongue, tastes copper. _She chokes on her own blood._ She loses it for a while.

When the Anchorage Shatterdome gets into sight she pulls herself together. She’ll be damned if she doesn’t walk out of this Jaeger on her own two feet, head held high. She won’t be carried out like Miranda because Shepard is not dead. She hurts all over and she’s afraid of the first actual steps she has to take but she’s not dead. That has to count for something.

The Jaegers are hosed down in the Shatterdome to neutralise any Kaiju Blue before they’re brought into the hangar. 

Shepard straightens up despite her crushed spine and hollowed-out abdomen, holds her head high and focuses through the fierce pain. It’s only seconds before the door to the conn-pod behind her glides open and the techs as well as medics hurry inside.  
They are all obviously taken-aback when they find her not only conscious but fully functional. Miranda though, Miranda they probably expected but not to this extent.

“Oh my god,” one of the technicians, Kenneth, murmurs under his breath when he and his colleague Gabby open Miranda’s harness and carry her corpse to a stretcher. “Oh my god.”

Shepard’s own harness is finally opened and her boots disengage from the platform. She steps down, locks her knees to keep them from buckling. The techs remove the spine support and her helmet but when they move to take off the rest, Shepard waves them away. The drive suit is the only thing that keeps her standing right now.

She steps out of the conn-pod. It seems like most of the Shatterdome is crowded right here, in front of Eury Prime (or what’s left of her) and Gipsy Danger and the noise level is loud but contained, considering. People stare at her, whisper, point fingers as she descends the bridge. Shepard keeps her face coldly indifferent. Two men in white drive suits stand at the bottom of the bridge that leads up to Gipsy’s conn-pod. Even if she didn’t know what they look like Shepard could have put one and one together. It seems like an eon ago that she watched that interview where they bantered so effortlessly with Moreau. 

The Beckets are big, blond and stare at her with the most miserable expressions she has ever seen in her entire life. 

Shepard can pinpoint the exact moment when the techs come out of the conn-pod carrying the broken Miranda on a stretcher. She knows because there’s suddenly complete silence in the hangar. She watches the Beckets’ expression when they see exactly how impossible it is that Miranda’s still alive. 

Yancy’s jaw tightens, eyes wide. Raleigh’s face crumples in horror.

Shepard uses the general preoccupation to push through the crowd and towards the exit. Nobody tries to stop her. Just as she exits the hangar, she hears someone yell: “What are you all gawking at? Show some goddamn respect!”  
She thinks it might have been one of the Beckets. Her head hurts.

Her feet move her to the quarters she occupied the last time she was here. If this belongs to someone else by now she’ll chuck them out because her legs feel like they’ll give out any moment and her stomach rebels to the point where she’s considering puking all over the floor.

The quarters aren’t occupied. Her duffel bag is even on the desk, alongside Miranda’s. Shepard peels herself out of the drive suit and falls into bed with the circuit suit still on.

\--

Shepard wakes up without recollection of any dreams, nightmares or otherwise. Strange maybe, but then again she’d run on a completely empty battery. She doesn’t doubt there will be enough nightmares in nights to come.

For a moment she just lies still, cataloguing sensations. Her head still aches faintly but she can think clearly again. Her mouth is too dry - not surprising, especially since she doesn’t know how long she’s been asleep. Her stomach and back don’t hurt. She blinks, her heart beat quickens.

They don’t hurt. But she also doesn’t feel anything else from below her waist. She should feel the weight of the blanket, the material of the circuit suit.

She tries to wriggle her toes.  
Nothing.  
She tries to lift her right and left leg.  
Nothing.

All of a sudden the pain is back _the claw tugs out of her stomach but something doesn’t give and the claw rips out and there’s a crunch and agony and her spine gives_ and every nerve ending is set on fire. 

Shepard grits her teeth to keep from screaming her throat raw, hands scrabbling on the blanket, fingers fisting tightly until she hears a quiet ripping sound.  
She doesn’t know how long the ghost drift lasts but the next time she comes up for air the pain is gone and she can move again. Her skin is clammy, sweaty, her hair plastered to her forehead. Something warm trails from her nose over her lips. Her fingertips come away bloody.

She strips out of the suit in jerky movements, hissing in pain when it sticks in places on her back and has to be ripped off and stumbles into the shower.

When she looks into the mirror she almost doesn’t recognise herself. She’s never been tan, mind, but this degree of corpse pallor is anything but normal. She looks like a disease victim. There’s no hint of red under her skin, not even in her lips. Her bluish light grey eyes don’t help one bit to fight the zombie impression.

At least her hair looks good after the shower, what a way to find positive aspects in the smallest things. Find positives because her back? Looks like she’s gotten a tattoo of the circuit in her suit, a red, angry tattoo. The burns aren’t bad, they’re not bleeding and they don’t seem wet or anything - if they were truly severe, taking off the suit would have hurt a lot more - but they are vivid against her skin and most likely permanent. 

She rubs antiseptic wound healing salve across the burns as best as she’s able to with the awkward angle and slaps bandages on top before slipping into her Ranger uniform and heading to the cafeteria. She’s so hungry she could eat a whole chocolate cake without throwing up afterwards.

Shepard feels the stares all the way. She wants to tell them to shove it but just raises her head, straightens her shoulders, lengthens her strides. They’re looking for weakness but they won’t find it because she’s supposed to be _perfect_ -

Shepard’s heart misses a beat. That’s Miranda’s thought, Miranda’s rationale, Miranda’s everything. Ghost-drifting Shepard can handle, probably. But this begs the question: Just how much of Miranda did she keep when Miranda died in her head?

Shepard shakes those thoughts as she enters the cafeteria, refusing to dwell on it for too long. She had her crazy period yesterday during transit and that’s all she will allow herself.

\--

Stacker Pentecost is a tall man, formal and demanding authority without even saying a word. This is Shepard’s first meeting with him - she graduated from the academy before he was an instructor there - but she can guess that the sympathetic look he levels at her is not what people normally get when they’re sitting in his office.

“You did a good thing,” he tells her, folding his hands in front of him, “foolhardy, yes. But I don’t doubt that we would have lost three Rangers instead of one yesterday if not for your actions.” Silence. Shepard wonders if he waits for her to thank him or something equally ridiculous. 

Pentecost regards her thoughtfully. After almost a whole minute has passed he says: “This war is going to get much worse. We’ll need every Ranger and Jaeger we can get. What I need to know is if you’re up for it, Shepard.”

Shepard holds his gaze for a few more seconds then lowers her eyes to his desk. Is she up for it? She’s spent most of her time in the last years with a co-pilot she detested until said co-pilot died inside her head. She ghost-drifted so hard this morning she thought she was going to die and her head still twinges when she gets up or turns too fast. 

But even if she does feel tired and very reluctant to step into another person’s head again, what has changed, really? Years ago her reason to join up was this: Extinction is not an option. And now? Extinction is still not an option.

So she looks up again, right into his eyes and says: “Yes. But I’d like to be able to trust my next co-pilot, if it’s all the same to you.”  
Pentecost nods firmly.

“Ranger,” he says when she’s at the door, giving her a sharp look, “You solo’d a Jaeger yesterday and you look like you should be 6 feet under. Get your ass down to medical, now.”  
Her lips twitch and she salutes wordlessly.

\--

Medical doesn’t find the least bit wrong with her except for slight brain swelling. Expected, they tell her, because soloing a Jaeger is risky, very much so.

\--

She watches from above as Eury Prime is disassembled. The worst of her Jaeger’s damage is right in the middle of the back, Shepard knows that before she even takes the first look, memories of Knifehead’s ambush still fresh.  
They have to replace her whole back piece. The metal is too mangled and shredded, a simple patch job won’t do much good here.

Eury will be whole again as soon as the mechanics can possibly manage, Shepard knows that, but it still hurts to see her stripped down to pieces.

Somebody leans onto the railing next to her. There’s a moment of silence, then Yancy Becket says: “Thank you, Shepard.”

It’s radically different from all the I’m so sorry’s Shepard’s gotten over the last days, a few in person, most via e-mail. _I’m so sorry, Shepard. I know I can’t relate and I know you probably won’t even want to hear this, but I needed to try anyway,_ Diana Allers had written.

 _You should not have had to go through this, zayka_ , was the first and last line of the Kaidanovsky’s reply to her quick shoot-off to tell them she’s still alive and fine.  
“Thank you”, that’s new.

Silence settles between them. Shepard waits for him to continue. He seems content to wait her out and force her to be an active participant in this conversation. A whole minute passes by before she makes a small moue and says: “What for?”

Out of the corner of her eyes she sees him turning to face her. She watches the mechanics scurry around Eury’s feet.  
“Raleigh and me, we would be dead if not for you,” Yancy states bluntly. “Knifehead would have ripped our conn-pod apart and that would have been it. Thank you for saving our lives.”

Shepard purses her lips. “I don’t get it,” she says suddenly (she didn’t have much time to think about it while it was happening but now, now she thinks _what the hell_ ), “I gave you the intel. You knew that Knifehead would go for the conn-pod. Choi told you. How on Earth did you let it happen?”

She turns, stares him in the face. Yancy doesn’t wince but his face is grim, his eyes guilty. Still, he doesn’t hesitate to answer and he doesn’t break eye contact. Integrity, she thinks approvingly.  
“We were cocky. Arrogant. Underestimated Knifehead even though we knew it had already taken Eury down. We let it all go to our head, the fame, the thrill of being good at something. We started thinking that we’re invincible.”

“Still think that?” Shepard asks softly. Yancy laughs, short and hollow. “No. God, no. And it shouldn’t have taken this to remind us.”  
She can hear what he doesn’t say. _But I’m glad it was this way, with both of us still alive._

They lapse into silence, turning back to watch the disassembly. All of a sudden he says: “Tendo will flip when he hears you calling him Choi. All the pretty girls absolutely have to call him Tendo.” His tone is teasing, playful, flirty even.

Shepard’s lips quirk. “Oh? You’re one of those pretty girls then?”  
As Yancy laughs beside her, surprised and delighted this time, Shepard smiles. She’s gonna be okay, leftovers of Miranda in her head be damned

\--

Raleigh Becket is a puppy. She’s not even kidding, he might be the first genuine human-puppy.

He bounds up to her in the hallway and manages to look unbelievably small, all 6’1 of him, the injured arm tightly bandaged and tucked into his body. As he apologises and thanks her, enunciation slow and clear and absolutely sincere, wide, blue eyes stare beseechingly at her from underneath a blond, shaggy fringe. 

Shepard swallows. He has to be the most adorable thing she has ever seen and she isn’t quite sure what to do with that because she has seen little kittens, actual _dog_ puppies and once a duck mama with its little ducklings.

In the end she just can’t resist the temptation, reaches up and pets his hair. Raleigh tilts his head, openly confused. She makes an almost involuntary cooing sound, pats his cheeks and goes on her way before she can start talking to him in a baby voice.

\--

The first time she meets Tendo, bright suspenders, bow tie and all, he doesn’t flip. In fact, he hardly sees her coming and only has time to look surprised and say: “Shepard, good to see you, I’m-“ before Shepard grabs his suspenders and lays one on him, right on the mouth.

The people around them hoot and laugh. She pulls back, says: “It’s Liza, Tendoman” and strides away.

“Hey,” he hollers after her, amusement clear in his voice, “that’s all I get?”  
“Don’t push it,” she yells back.

\--

“So,” Yancy says as he pushes his tray next to hers onto the table. “Tendo, huh?”

She doesn’t have to look up to hear his raised eyebrows and confused pout. Raleigh slides into the seat across from her.  
“That was just a thank you,” she says primly, spearing a potato on her fork. “He didn’t leave me alone in Eury. He didn’t leave me hanging.”

Yancy looks her over. She’s beginning to understand that he’s intuitive, not at all afraid of emotions and discussing them. He seems to weigh the pros and cons of pursuing the subject.  
Raleigh tilts his head, says: “Huh.” Then, thoughtfully. “So if I - hm, let’s say I save you when you’re falling down the stairs, I’ll get one too?”

“Oh, chouchou,” Shepard says, fighting against the sing-song baby voice. Next to her Yancy’s shoulders are starting to shake so she might not be as successful as she thinks she is. “You just have to look at me with your silly mug and I want to give you a smooch.”

Raleigh looks enormously pleased with himself, grinning smugly before digging into his meal.

Yancy’s laughing his ass off and doesn’t stop until she places a strategic elbow between his ribs.

\--

When she can’t sleep at night she sometimes wonders at how quickly she let the Beckets close enough to have an easy, friendly camaraderie with them. It took Sasha and Aleksis weeks to get there. Miranda never even came close.

You’d like them, Sasha had written in her letter, years ago.

 _I do_ , Shepard thinks and shudders at the fear that races up her spine, _I really do_.

\--

She still wakes up and can’t move, can’t think through the ghost-drift.

It happens more often than she likes to admit, definitely more often than is healthy. She keeps her mouth shut and tells nobody. Strictly speaking there’s no such thing as a ghost drift.

Medical will sooner declare a Ranger mentally unstable than admit that there are things about the drift they don’t understand, consequences that occur but weren’t investigated because nobody gave a damn when the Jaeger program was launched and nobody gives a damn now when it works most of the time.


End file.
